Begin At The End
by downbyholborn
Summary: Many years after the war, a work assignment leads Harry to France. There he meets someone unexpected, creating startling changes in both their lives. HarryxDraco. Slash.
1. Chapter 1

**Summary: Many years after the war, a work assignment leads Harry to France. There he meets someone unexpected, creating some similarly startling changes in both their lives. HarryxDraco. Slash.**

**Begin At The End**

**Chapter One**

"Bonjour, Monsieur Potter."

Harry nodded in response at the officially-clothed government escort. The poor man had been waiting most of the day it seemed for his arrival via the Portkey, which had been placed unobtrusively at the edge of a farmer's field. Although a beautiful spot, Harry felt guilty about his lateness; there didn't seem much to do to pass the time here. He considered responding in the man's native language but decided against it. Previous attempts at conversing with French ministers at earlier meetings had been less than successful. Harry could still picture the mixture of confusion and disdain colouring their faces as he introduced himself as Mr Gloucester who lived in Harry Potter. He wouldn't be trying that again in a hurry.

A limousine awaited Harry, parked on the verge of a quiet road that ran alongside the fields. Obviously an attempt to help him blend into the Muggle world, unfortunately the most conspicuous vehicle possible had been selected for the task.

"Er – would it be okay if I walked to the house?" Harry enquired. He wiggled his index and middle fingers, pointing towards, trying to create an impression of walking.

The escort blinked. "Walk?" he repeated slowly, unsure. Harry nodded. "But – is no safe…" He was looking at Harry as though the English wizard was completely insane.

"I'm sure I can manage it. The village can't be that far away."

After a moment's deliberation, the man sighed and gave a small shrug of the shoulders. "Allo, oui" he consented. "But I come with" he added, giving Harry a look that implied it was not a point for discussion. They walked in silence, the language barrier preventing any conversation from arising. The French man kept glancing nervously around the pair, obviously uncomfortable with his role of getting Harry from A to B safely. Thankfully, after twenty or so minutes walk a village – quite large in size – appeared on the horizon.

It was another few minutes stroll before they arrived in the village of Rivière d'Or itself. Harry had done a little bit of research about this place already upon hearing that he was to be based here for a work assignment. He knew, for instance, that it was one of the oldest wizarding communities in western Europe, like Hogsmeade; a village Harry held fond memories of. A quick walk around the streets alerted one to the fact that it was a lot wealthier than Hogsmeade: expensive shops lined the perfectly kept roads. Harry peered into the impeccably clean window of _Monsieur Rammique's Boutique de Chocolat_ and, upon viewing the hefty price tag on the display sweets, jumped back from the glass as though afraid of being charged for simply looking.

"Monsieur Potter." More than a hint of impatience was evident as the government representative tried to gain Harry's attention. Once he noticed the man once more Harry followed him round a series of twisting cobbled pavements before finding himself standing in front of a very impressive old building. The man rummaged through various pockets until he produced the house key and handed it over. He pointed to Harry, then to the key, then to the house; just in case Harry had somehow not understood the purpose of the item he had been given.

"Oh yes. Thank you. Merci." Harry said. The man gave a polite bow before leaving Harry on his own. Upon opening the door, however, Harry still sensed that the man was watching him.

The house was as elegant inside as it was on the exterior. Harry felt incredibly out of place. His own home back in England was a very different picture: even though his children were grown up, the house was still a constant mess due to their reluctance to move out. Unfortunately all of them seem to have inherited his knack for untidiness. This house, however, was very grand and impeccably maintained. The French Ministry obviously wanted to make sure he was happy enough to work wholeheartedly with them on this assignment.

His eyes roamed the room, taking it all in. He spotted his suitcase already waiting for him. Unzipping it, he took out the framed photographs that lay on top of his crumpled clothes and placed them on the black marble mantelpiece. One of the few photographs he possessed of his parents smiled out at him; next to them his children, all much younger, rolled continually down a grassy hill, disappearing from view at the bottom of the picture only to reappear at the top once again; and beside that his twenty-year-old self grinned back alongside Ginny as they fed each other cake on their wedding day.

Harry smiled sadly at that photograph. He had probably spent more time looking at that image than he had with the real person over the course of their marriage. His work as an Auror had meant constant worldwide travel on the trail of dark wizards and organisations. Ginny, too, had always been continually on the move: first touring as a Quidditch player for the Devonshire Dragons before becoming a full-time coach for in Scotland for the Edinburgh Eagles. When they did get to see each other, it was usually school holidays or family occasions. They were rarely alone together. Unfortunately they were both very stubborn people and neither was willing to give up their dream careers for the other.

Harry's rumbling stomach provided a welcome distraction from his musings. When he examined the kitchen cupboards, he was grateful to find them fully stocked – although what exactly the packages contained led to a rather strange concoction for dinner.

The next morning Harry awoke early to prepare himself for the first day on a new assignment, He often wished he had some sort of deep and dynamic preparation routine but in reality it consisted simply of scrambled egg on toast teamed with a large mug of tea. Not much of a chef, he longed for the days when sumptuous food would appear in the blink of an eye at Hogwarts' mealtimes.

Wolfing down the last bit of toast, Harry hurried to the door, grabbing his battered jacket on the way. No matter how early he woke up, it was never early enough. His life was a perpetual rush. Only just remembering to take the house key, Harry stepped out into the place morning sunlight and began a brisk walk towards the village centre. In the many documents outlining the nature of his stay in France, there had been a brief mention of a Portkey in the central square that linked to the Ministry.

Upon reaching the centre he indeed found a few locals hovering around what appeared to be a broken statue. They were all glancing at the impressive clock tower that dominated the square. That had to be the Portkey. Harry strode up to the group, ignoring the curious looks that he received, waiting for the clock to strike eight. Once the stares had ceased, Harry chanced a closer look at the others. Upon lifting his head, however, he received a real shock.

The man opposite him noticed Harry's reaction and turned his head to face him straight on. Harry couldn't quite believe the image in front of him but there it was. The pointed features, the alabaster skin, the silvery blond hair.

There was no disguising a Malfoy.

**A/N: Please let me know what you think of this chapter - this is hopefully going to become a multi-chapter fic. I really appreciate any feedback ******

**~Ash**


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary: Many years after the war, a work assignment leads Harry to France. There he meets someone unexpected, creating some similarly startling changes in both their lives. HarryxDraco. Slash.**

**A/N: Apologies if the French isn't quite right, it's been many years since studying it!**

**Begin At The End**

**Chapter Two**

For a moment Harry was sure he had gone back in time. Yet as he studied the young man opposite more closely, there were certain differences. He was a little shorter and stockier; his face was slightly fuller; and his eyes were a striking emerald rather than cold and grey. Still he had borne enough resemblance to Harry's old school rival Draco Malfoy that made the dark haired wizard visibly jump in shock.

The clock chimed eight and suddenly the small group of wizards and witches were hurtling briefly through blurred landscapes before arriving outside a rather grey and drab office block. It was completely incongruous against the surrounding Parisian opulence. They all entered through a filthy door that creaked tremendously, down a dingy corridor then through another dusty door until…

The contrast couldn't have been starker. Enormous chandeliers hung from the gilded ceiling, illuminating the grand atrium whose marble floors glittered in reflection. Sweeping staircases lined the edges, twisting and turning in all directions, leading employees to their destinations. There was none of the bustle and congestion of the British Ministry of Magic: instead workers ambled leisurely, occasionally stopping to chat with a colleague.

An announcement rung out through the atrium. Amongst the rapid French Harry distinctly heard the words 'Harry' and 'Potter'. Murmurs rose from the government officials, some turning to stare at the still-gawping wizard standing by the entrance. Unfortunately for Harry his second defeat of Voldemort meant he was well-known across the wizarding world, even after all the years that had since passed.

"Could Mr Harry Potter please make his way to the third floor. Thank you."

Thankful for the translated announcement, Harry set off to determine which one of the many staircases would lead him to the aforementioned floor.

After many failed attempts Harry eventually found himself sitting in the office of Etienne Fortâme, Head of the French Aurors. After the initial pleasantries were done with, Etienne appropriately adopted a much more formal tone.

"Now, onto business as they say." His accent was incredibly thick and Harry had to strain to pick up exactly what was being said. Behind him he heard the soft click of a door closing and the faint shuffling of footsteps. The blond man who had given Harry such a shock earlier moved into his view.

"I hope you don't mind if Scorpius here takes some notes?" Etienne asked. Harry shook his head. Scorpius sat down behind Etienne and took out his quill along with some parchment, all the while watching Harry.

"So as you know, we have had much difficulty trying to capture the prison escapee Michel Fermain. We believe he is trying to revive an old organisation called Lieue de Pureté. They were a lot of trouble for us back in the 1970s and they've never totally disappeared."

Harry nodded, occasionally glancing furtively at the blond man. Harry wasn't entirely sure why the sight of someone so similar to Draco had rattled him so much. It had of course brought back memories of his younger years: of Hogwarts, of his old schoolmates, of that night of the battle. He did not like to focus on that memory for too long. Even after a space of more than twenty years the emotions were still too powerful.

"…and so with your expertise, we are hoping for a good result, eh?" Etienne looked at Harry expectantly.

"I will do my very best" Harry promised. Etienne smiled.

Work over the following few days passed without much event. Harry discovered that he was to working with two other Senior Aurors on his assignment called Christoph and Guillame. They were both very hard workers but unluckily for Harry they did not have much tolerance for lightheartedness or friendliness. They were there to work: that was all. And there was certainly no lack of work. Indeed when Harry got his first job as Auror he had been stunned by the amount of meticulous preparation and planning involved. It wasn't just running around fighting wizards all the time – a fact he had found more than a little dismaying.

Upon returning to his house at the end of his first week, Harry spotted a dappled grey owl sitting on the roof. No sooner had Harry put his key in the front door than the bird swooped down, dropping a letter by Harry's feet and perching on his shoulder expectantly.

"I haven't got any for you" Harry said apologetically, receiving a loud disapproving hoot in this ear before the owl flew away. Harry tore open the letter as he walked inside. It was from Ginny. He flopped down onto the settee, propping his feet up on the ridiculously ornate coffee table.

_Dear Harry,_

_I hope you're settling in well over there. Things are a bit mental over here at the moment so it's only a quick note I'm afraid. Charlie turned up out of blue at our house – the boys love his visits of course. I'm hoping he'll maybe get across to them what a fun and exciting time they could be having in their __own__ houses – although I fear it would be a near miracle to convince them to ever move out!_

_We're all doing fine though. I've been rushed at work trying to get the team up to scratch for the new Quidditch season – it's proving a bit of a battle. The team captain has put his friend on the team even though he's not that great – I wonder what sort of person would do that…!_

_Sorry this has been so short but I never seem to have a moment's peace right now._

_Keep safe, I miss you._

_Love Ginny xx_

_P.S. Albus asks if you've started wearing berets yet?_

Harry smiled as he re-read the letter. The happiness was soon replaced by a feeling of loneliness however as he read about such lively times whilst he was alone in an empty house. He made a quick decision to go for a wander around the village, get acquainted with his surroundings. Moping around the place was certainly going to do him no good. Putting on the jacket he had only just removed, Harry stepped back outside into the crisp evening air,

The streets were quiet. He gazed into the dark windows of some of the shops, strolled through the small park. Upon turning down one street he heard the muffled sound of people talking and laughing. Wandering further on down the road, Harry came across a quaint little pub. He stepped inside.

It was a truly picture-perfect pub. Old oak beams lined the ceiling from which hung endless varieties of ales, meads, beers… all sorts. The smell of home cooked food pervaded the room, though from what Harry could tell no one was actually eating. People were gathered in groups, too many chairs huddled around small tables, laughing and joking with each other. Harry walked up to the bar.

"One Firewhisky please." The barman eyed him suspiciously.

"Grand ou petit, monsieur?" he replied after a thoughtful pause. Harry stared at him blankly.

"One. Firewhisky. Please." Harry repeated, louder and slower than before.

"D'accord. Mais un grand ou petit verre?" the barman replied, already a little exasperated. Harry guessed that in such a picturesque village he had his fair share of British visitors who had not bothered to learn a word of French. And now Harry was one of them.

"I don't understand anything. I no comprende" Harry tried in his worst French accent.

"Well that's always been obvious." A dry voice spoke from behind him. Harry spun round to see the unmistakable figure of Draco Malfoy.

**Reviews are lovely ******

**~Ash**


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